


These are the Contents of my Head

by Frangipanidownunder



Category: The X-Files
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-07
Updated: 2017-03-07
Packaged: 2018-09-30 15:10:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,812
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10165703
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Frangipanidownunder/pseuds/Frangipanidownunder
Summary: For @leiascully‘s XFWritingChallenge prompt: lists. Angsty.





	

This is the fear  
This is the dread  
These are the contents of my head  
And these are the years that we have spent  
And this is what they represent  
And this is how I feel  
Do you know how I feel ?  
Annie Lennox, ‘Why’

She pulled down one shoebox. Behind it was another, and another. Her calves protested as she climbed up and down the step ladder clearing the top shelf of the cupboard. There were two old worn trench coats that brought a grim smile to her face, a stuffed alien that had been a joke gift from Frohike on a Mulder birthday long ago, a stamp album that might have belonged to Teena Mulder, the cover so ripped and dusty that Scully was afraid to open it. And three shoe boxes. All these items covered the bed in the spare room. None of them was what she was looking for.  
She unlidded the first box and spotted Mulder’s handwriting straightaway. Each square of paper was uniform, the ink blue, the lettering precise. On each square was a numbered list. One to five. The box was full. She opened another, and another. She picked up handfuls of paper lists, turning them over to inspect them from every angle, as though changing the view might offer some perspective.  
She plucked one at random, holding it at the long edge like she might hold a specimen with tweezers. 

14 April 2004  
1 Red Book  
2 Carpaccio  
3 Ellery’s  
4 Luciano  
5 Fifth and Myer

Another revealed a list of military titles and a third a list of perfumes. She rummaged through each box, pulling lists at random. Bird species, childhood diseases, comedy movies, shoe styles, European ski resorts. She licked her lips as she landed on one that listed five boy’s name. Number one was William.  
She rifled through the notes. As an investigator she tried to apply her training to bring logic to the letters on the pages, layering them or placing them sequentially. As a scientist she understood that the apparent randomness of the system would eventually yield some underlying pattern or repetition. Chaos.  
‘Beautiful chaos, Scully,’ Mulder said, standing so close behind her that she could feel the heat radiating from him, hear his quickening breaths. She hadn’t heard him come in. She felt unutterably guilty, like she’d been caught reading his journal.  
She put the notes down and turned to face him. He flexed his jaw and stuffed his hands in his pockets. ‘What are they, Mulder?’  
He grabbed one and read it out. Tropical fish species. ‘This one lists the fish I’ve never had in my tank. This one,’ he said, blushing even more, ‘is a list of my favourite bras you wore back in our field days, colour, style and designer.’  
Scully looked back at the bed, the paper strewn across it. ‘Is there anything you haven’t catalogued, Mulder?’  
He pushed out his lips and hesitated a moment. ‘I don’t think there’s one for all brands of pantyhose you’ve ever worn. Or all the types of salad you’ve ordered and not eaten, or the different inflections in your voice when you say you’re fine. But I could do those, if you want.’  
The bed sagged as she sat down. Notes fluttered to the floor. ‘What’s the purpose of them?’ She looked up at him. He held her gaze for a beat then cast his eyes to the floor. He stooped to pick up the lists that had fallen.  
‘There’s no purpose. Not a rational one that would suit your rigorous methods, Dr Scully.’  
‘What about one that your psychology training could provide, Dr Mulder?’  
He rubbed his stubbled chin. ‘They saved me.’  
‘Saved you? How?’  
‘Perhaps it’s like the cross around your neck, Scully.’  
‘Faith, Mulder?’ She swept her hand across the mess. ‘These gave you faith?’  
‘What is faith, Scully, but a way of keeping you on track, maintaining your sanity.’  
She chuffed. ‘There’s more to faith than that, Mulder.’  
‘What do you want me say, Scully? I wrote them daily, religiously; the routine was nourishing for my soul, I confessed.’  
‘Mulder, these aren’t confessions. They’re lists. Words on paper in an ordered fashion.’  
He opened the second box, picked out a note. ‘Five places I nearly walked out on you.’ He put it back. Chose another. ‘Five times I hated you.’ He showed her the list, the lettering scrawled across the paper, angry words bumping into each other. Another. ‘Five women I fucked while you were always working.’  
Her hand shook as she covered her mouth. Her skin smelled musty. She bit back the sob that threatened.  
‘You were right to leave, Scully.’

She shook her head, letting her hair fall over her face. She breathed in ragged breaths waiting for the oxygen to work its way through her, to calm her. She imagined him, hunched over the desk in his study, scribbling furiously across the paper, at dawn, in the dark, on Thanksgiving, when it snowed so heavily she couldn’t get back to the house, when she turned her back on him and said she was too tired.  
She’d told him once to write it down, put it in a book.  
‘Mulder, you were ill.’  
He walked around to sit on the other side of the bed. She turned to watch how the muscles in his back moved under his tee. His shoulders were tight.  
‘And this is the actual evidence of a troubled mind. All those years you demanded proof. I believed, but you needed to weigh it, dissect it, culture it or calibrate it. I felt it, but you had to measure, prod, test, and scrape it onto a slide. Well, here are the case notes on Fox Mulder. You can turn these into one of those reports you used to write.’  
‘Mulder, stop.’  
‘Why Scully? So that you can feel better? Here you have all the truth you need.’  
‘This isn’t the truth, Mulder. This is a punishment.’  
‘For you or for me?’ His words cut her and she held her breath. They’d been here before. His anger boiling up until he punched the wall or broke a vase. He sighed. ‘I’m sorry, Scully. I’m not going to…but this is the truth. In these boxes, this is the ugly truth from my mind, my heart.’  
‘I know your heart,’ she said, wiping away the tear that had fallen and burned her skin. ‘This isn’t your true heart. This is your guilt. Your conscience. Your…’  
‘My sanity?’ He chuckled, breaking the tension. She allowed herself a short, mirthless laugh too. ‘Did you really consider what you were getting into, Scully? You, the ruthless, critical thinker. The scientist. The rational half of the working partnership. How many times did you ask yourself, “how could I let myself fall for Fox Mulder?” I asked. Many times.’  
She giggled then. It was a short burst of life from her scarred lungs. ‘I used to ask what did you see in me? Uptight, argumentative, sceptic. And really, really short person.’ She fell back on the bed, laughing.  
He grabbed a note. ‘Five times Scully laughed.’  
After a moment, she sniffed. ‘Just five?’  
He looked over at her. ‘Five good times, Scully. Not the only five.’  
‘What are they?’  
‘Number five, the first time you met the Lone Gunmen and you giggled hysterically outside their apartment for five full minutes. They were mortified.’  
‘They could hear me?’ she gasped.  
‘Scully, they were the masters of surveillance. Of course they heard. Number four, when I told you about Nurse Nancy and your karate routine after I got trapped in that AI. You listened to me and then your lips wobbled and you spat out your coffee and let rip.’  
‘It was kind of ridiculous, though, Mulder. You have to admit that.’  
He nodded. ‘It felt so real.’  
She bit her bottom lip. ‘Sorry.’  
‘Number three, when we got drunk after that godawful movie premiere and I told you that I loved you and you lost your shit and cried laughing.’  
‘Oh, Mulder. I really don’t remember that.’  
‘No, of course you don’t. You were really drunk, Scully.’  
‘What was number two?’  
‘The first week on the run, when we hadn’t slept properly for days and we ended up in some fleabitten motel in whatever nameless town was next on the map and you switched on the tv and it was playing Caddyshack. We both laughed, Scully. Laughed at that movie because it was comfort, it was memory, it was nostalgia.’  
She reached out for his hand and he laid across the bed so their heads met in the middle. ‘It was safer to laugh than to cry. If we’d have cried we wouldn’t have stopped.’  
‘Do you want to know the top one, Scully?’  
She turned her lips and kissed the back of his hand, where the veins ran through. ‘Yes,’ she whispered.  
‘You were outside the hospital one day, back when I was supposed to be in hiding still. You were talking to someone, I don’t know who, tall man, grey hair, glasses. He was telling you a story and you were listening so intently, nodding here and there, holding his gaze, just like you used to do with me, standing so close to him. He bent his head, whispered something to you. You took a second, then threw your head back and laughed, full and throaty. You radiated happiness, Scully. I was going to surprise you, take you for lunch, but I just watched you laugh and laugh. I knew I couldn’t take you out of that moment. You deserved all the happiness. You still do.’  
She inched forward, kissing his mouth, running her hands through his hair. ‘You make me happy, Mulder.’  
‘After you’ve seen all this?’ He pushed some lists off the bed.  
‘Even after this. You are one of the most contradictory people I’ve ever met. You confound me. You carry such a violent strength of belief yet sometimes you just give up; you have a self-confidence that borders on arrogance, yet you are humble; you take the side of the victim every time, yet how many times have you martyred yourself? And I know you love me, no matter how many times I’ve rolled my eyes or laughed at you or turned you away. And I’m sorry for all those times. I love you, Mulder, because I know your heart. Your heart is your truth. Always.’  
She kissed his tears. ‘What was this list, Mulder?’ She found the first one she’d read.  
‘These were the restaurants that served the best pizza.’  
She giggled and sat up.  
‘What were you looking for in here anyway, Scully?’  
‘I was looking for a place to put my cases.’  
He fingered the chain around her neck. ‘You’re coming back to me?’  
‘To your heart.’


End file.
